The Twelve Days Of Christmas: Day 2
by Ivicakes
Summary: Natalya thinks Christmas is just another ordinary day, but who comes knocking on her door to change all that?


DING-DONG.

The sweet bells sounded throughout Natalya's house, deceptively innocent compared to the many horrors that awaited you as soon as you crossed the threshold and came inside. Natalya wondered why anyone was bothering to ring her doorbell on Christmas morning. It couldn't be the mailman; he didn't come on Christmas (plus the fact that he'd stopped coming directly to her door a loooong time ago). It might be Toris coming to wish her happy holidays with Feliks or something, but she didn't feel like breaking his fingers today. Lucky Toris, getting a Christmas present.

She sighed and hopped to her feet, making sure that her knife was secure in her belt as she went to open the door. Her hand wrapped around the short black hilt as the other one pulled the cold doorknob to her side, and she looked outside. Her eyes narrowed and a vaguely sinister smile crept across her face stealthily. Natalya's hand was at her waist in an instant, a flash signaling her knife being released from its hiding place, and was currently being twirled around in her hands.

"Brother," she purred the knife now nothing more than a blur in her grip. She leaned up against her doorframe, using its hilt to stroke the face of the tall man standing before her. "A merry Christmas to you. You will come in, da~?" She turned her body to let him through, but in such a way that he would have to touch her as he passed through the small doorway.

"….Da." he responded quietly, pushing past her. Natalya noticed a large red bow pinned to her brother's usual coat, as if he were one giant Christmas pr—

Oh. Natalya's grin widened, not into one of her trademark psychopath smiles, but into a real smile of actual excitement. It seemed as though her brother had been pushed into this by their eldest sister, Ukraine, but it didn't matter.

She closed the door, turning to follow Ivan into the kitchen. He sat down slowly and carefully at the table, as if he were afraid that it could explode at any moment. Which, knowing her, wouldn't be too big a stretch of the imagination. Instead of taking her usual spot in the chair next to him, Natalya sat down right on top of him, wrapping one arm around the back of his shoulders and caressing his face with the back of her hand.

"So what brings you around, brother?" She cooed softly, close to his ear. "I thought you had plans with sister for Christmas~"

"Da, I did." Ivan spoke softly, his quiet voice in contrast to his big, intimidating frame. His Russian dialect infiltrated his English, the accent strong and prominent. "But I had to cancel. I made…other plans. I made plans with you. Merry Christmas, my sister." His arms wrapped around her waist protectively, pulling her close almost as if he were afraid that someone would come and try to take her away from him Which wouldn't happen, as everyone knew that the Slavic Siblings were scary as hell, except for naïve little Ukraine.

Natalya draped herself over Ivan without a second thought, burying her face in his wide shoulders as she used to when they were little. When the little Belarusian girl clung to her Russian older brother like Velcro. When he willingly led her around, teaching her how to run her country. That was when…

That was when he loved her, Natalya realized, lifting her head slightly.

He loved her back then, when she was soft-spoken and sweet. As she'd changed, he had grown more and more distant so she had felt the need to attach herself to him more and more.

An unfamiliar prickling sensation started up behind her eyes, yielding tears that streamed down her cheeks, and a hot blush rippled across her cheeks. She pressed her face deeper into her brother's shoulder to disguise both of these facts but her brother knew better.

Although Ivan was shock, he didn't let it show as his arms moved to her neck and hands moved to her head of their own will. He hadn't seen his strong, brave, iron-willed sister cry since she was five. He simply pulled her close to him, so close, and let her cry.

"я тебя люблю," he murmured to her, kissing the top of her head repeatedly and rubbing at the skin that the back of her dress left exposed. The words spilled out of him almost effortlessly, as if they had always been inside of him somewhere, kept under strict lock and key so they couldn't escape from his heart. "я тебя люблю."


End file.
